The Misadventures of Peter and Cato
by Ninazadzia
Summary: What happens when you put Peter Hayes and Cato in the SAME college AU? Instant bromance, obviously. T for swearing, sex, and alcohol. Humor.


**A/N: Highly AU. The Divergent and Hunger Games characters (featuring a cameo from two Harry Potter characters) all went to the same high school, and have come home for the summer from their first year of college.**

**Disclaimer: This fic contains gratuitous swearing, mentions of sex, and substance abuse. It's purposefully humorous. All flames will be used to roast marshmallows.**

* * *

"Come pick me up, you shithead."

I groaned. "Hayes?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm a little preoccupied." I heard a large belch from the other end of the phone line. "Sounds like you went heavy with the beer tonight."

"I have so much alcohol in my system it's not even funny." I heard some shouting in the background. A few names—Tris, Katniss, Clove—were thrown around.

"Where the fuck are you?" I demanded. "Is Clove there?"

"Tobias Eaton's." Another belch. "And quite possibly. Who knows, d'you wanna fucking find out? Then _give me a ride, bitch."_

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine. Just keep her away from Eric, okay? I heard he's got a thing for her."

"Whatever, Romeo."

Peter hung up. I looked around me.

Articles of clothing were strewn across the room. Glimmer's hot pink bra was in plain sight, but my pants seemed to be missing. I checked my watch; she'd been in the shower for about ten minutes, so she'd probably be out soon. If I got ready fast enough, I wouldn't have to stay for any awkward, post-sex chit chat.

_Alright, Cato. It's go time._

I scrambled around the room, throwing on my boxers, my shirt, my socks, my shoes—fuck, _still _no pants. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd taken them into the bathroom just to keep me around.

I surveyed my outfit. Well. The boxers _could _pass for board shorts—

I heard the door to the bathroom unlock. _Ho shit. _I sprinted to the window, fucked around with the hinges, and proceeded to jump out. I'd had a graceful, soft landing in mind, but I accidentally tripped on my way out and fell into one of the bushes.

_ "Fucking hell—"_

I clamped my hand out over my mouth, after I heard the bathroom door open.

"Cato?"

With an undercurrent of _fuck fuck fuck fuck _streaming out from under my breath, I jumped up and out of the bushes, and ran away.

"Fuck you, Ludwig!"

She'd poked her head out of her bedroom window. I turned around, blowing her a kiss. "Byeeeeeeee!" I yelled.

Tobias Eaton lived about a mile from Glimmer. I could tell which house was his almost immediately—cars lined either side of the street, red cups littered the gutter, and Peeta Mellark (the lightweight pussy that he was) was throwing up on the front lawn.

_Ahhh. It's good to be home._

I'd grown up in Suburbia, New Jersey. I'd just finished my freshman year of college (at USC), so I was looking forward to a summer of booze, beaches and sex. I was _also _looking forward to seeing my ex-girlfriend (Clove Fuhrman), because we'd ended on such a weird note when I came home for Thanksgiving. ("Weird" meaning we spent an entire night fucking and then at the end of it she was all 'I-can't-do-this-whole-long-distance-thing-so-we're-done-k-thanks-bye.')

"Yo, Ludwig!"

Peter Hayes (my closest friend from high school) stumbled out of the front of Tobias' house. He went straight in for a bro hug, but since he was carrying a red cup he proceeded to spill beer all over my boxers. "Come in, bro," he said.

"Has she gotten with anyone?" I demanded.

"Still hung up on her, huh?" He snickered.

"_No. _I was actually just screwing Glimmer Rambin."

He snorted. "Yeah, your _grandpa _could screw Glimmer Rambin, she's that easy."

"She's not!" I shoved him.

"Well, no, Eric hasn't molested her face. Yet." He gave me an eyebrow wiggle. "Good fucking luck, Romeo."

We stopped right in front of the pong table. "For all of the shit you give me about Clove, it's not _half _as bad as how you feel about Tris Prior—"

"Oh, shut up—"

"Dude, you think I don't see the hard you have on for her right now?" I put him into a headlock. "You want some of thaaaaaat."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" He chugged his beer. "She's _hot _and I'm _drunk. _And I _love hate sex."_

"You also love _her_—"

"Fuck off—"

"—even though you're currently at her _boyfriend's _house—"

"Again, fuck off!"

He shoved me, so I took the liberty of giving him an even bigger shove back. I hadn't meant to shove him _right _into Tris Prior, though.

He turned around (probably to yell at whoever it was), and then his face broke into a _huge _smile when he saw her.

"What's up, babe?" He tried to put his arm around her. She dodged it.

"What's this about my boyfriend's house?" she asked, eyeing him skeptically.

Peter stared for a second, processing the scenario. Then he pointed at her.

"Were you standing there, like, the entire time?"

She brought a hand up, and smacked him across the face. "_Yep," _she said, and then proceeded to walk away with a strut.

"What the fuck," he winced, nursing his right cheek.

"In your dreams, _asshole!"_ she called over her shoulder.

As Peter stared after her (a little too longingly), I couldn't contain the fit of laugher.

"Whatever," he said, waving a hand dismissively. He took a few steps over to the liquor stash, and proceeded to grab a bottle of Smirnoff. "Christina Kravitz is here. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"Okay, _you_ going after Christina and Tris is like _me_ going after Katniss—it won't fucking happen, man."

"Psch. Like you'd ever fuck Katniss Everdeen."

"Eh," I shrugged. "I would."

"For real?"

"I hate her guts, but she's hot, so yeah." I put a hand on his shoulder. "But hot hate sex isn't my priority, and it shouldn't be yours—"

"Right, right." He put his hands up in air quotes. "'We need someone who's as much of an asshole as we are,' 'hate sex only happens in movies,' I get it." He scanned the room, and then jerked his head to the left. "Speaking of assholes, look over there."

I squinted. In the dark room, I could _just _make out the outline of Clove's figure.

I gulped back the lump in my throat. _Be cool, _I commanded myself. _Don't be her to take you back. Don't come off like a man-whore frat boy (even though, let's be honest here, you fit the stereotype to a T). Don't act too cocky, wait actually she kind of liked that, okay so act just_ _the right amount of cocky—_

"Get itttttt, Cato!"

I threw a punch in Peter's direction, and then ripped the bottle of Smirnoff from his hands. "Fuck it," I said, downing a gulp.

"Shit, bro, you're driving."

"Yeah, and I'm 200 pounds of muscle—I won't fucking feel this."

I made my way over to Clove. She was in deeeeeeep conversation with Eric Courtney, an old friend of Peter's. She glanced over in my direction after noticing me, and then rolled her eyes and walked over.

"Hey," I breathed.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Gee honey, it's good to see you too."

"Don't 'honey' me." She put a hand on her hip. "Cut to the chase, Cato—what do you want?"

I opened my mouth but before I could say anything, Peter called out "You!" from behind me.

"Ignore him," I half-demanded, half-pleaded. "I just wanted to see you, that's all."

"How long are you home for?"

"The whole summer."

"Well, I'm only here for a week. I'm doing an internship in Italy."

"Italy? Wow. That sounds . . . far." I mentally kicked myself. "_Fun._ I meant _fun._"

She gave me an eye-roll. "So yeah, we shouldn't see too much of each other. Which is a _good thing_."

"Listen, Clove—"

"Cato, I don't want to hear it. I meant what I said in the fall."

"But I _love you—"_

"Bullshit! I know you that just walked out on Glimmer, you prick." She held up her phone. "We _happen _to be friends now! So you might want to do your homework the next time you try to find a fuck buddy—"

"Oh, come on, we were _just _hooking up, it didn't mean anything—"

"You're fucking disgusting."

"Yeah, disgustingly _in love with you—"_

She shoved me away from her. "Don't fucking give me that." And then, she leaned in, and planted, a big, sloppy one, right on my lips. Just as I was thinking, _yes, fuck yes, finally_, she pulled away, and punched me right in the jaw.

"Are you happy now?" she asked.

"Jesus Christ. You're killing me."

She gave me a salute before walking away. "Oh, and I think I heard you say something about screwing Katniss Everdeen. Her boyfriend is inebriated at the moment, so you should go for it_, _jerk."

I watched as she walked away. Her perfect figure sashayed from side to side, and I felt a shiver go up my spine.

_Way to give me blue balls. Bitch._

I turned to my right, and noticed Eric Courtney had legitimately been standing there the _entire time._

"Look, man—"

"How do you do it?" He demanded. "Shit, you two were together for a year, and it's obvious she's still into you."

I snorted. "What are you smoking, Courtney? She just turned me down."

"Yeah, but she _kissed you—"_

I laughed. "Are you telling me that you guys haven't even gone to first yet? Word on the street is that you're screwing around."

He cleared his throat. "She told me she doesn't have sex."

"Well, she's a fucking liar."

"I think she meant that she doesn't have sex with anyone that isn't _you."_

"Yeah, well, _she _dumped _me_, not the other way around_._" I cleared my throat. "Excuse me while I go find Peter."

"Oh, he's puking in the bathroom."

"…"

"Are you fucking kidding me."

So I made my way on over to the toilet, where—lo and behold—Peter was vomiting up his absolute guts.

"What are you, fifteen?" I demanded. "_Why don't you know your fucking limit yet?"_

More barfing. He came up from the toilet bowl to look at me. "Because . . ." he started, his voice trailing off. "Smirnoff . . ." And then he went back down, and continued to empty out his stomach.

I sighed, tapping my foot as I waited at the door. This wasn't even _close _to the drunkest Peter had ever been (at least around me,) so my guess was that he'd puke for the next ten minutes and then be fine. In the meantime, though, I had to wave away Christina and Will (who were intent on hooking up a bathroom, for God knows what reason), and Peeta Mellark (who'd suddenly had the revelation that throwing up in Tobias' bathroom _may _have been a better idea than throwing up on his front lawn).

Sure enough, Peter was out in ten minutes. "Alright. I think I'm okay."

"_Actually _okay, or drunk okay?"

"I'm okay. That's all I've got."

So I rolled my eyes. I said goodbye to Eric and Zeke on the way out, I nodded my head in Four's direction, and—just as I reached the door—I caught a glimpse of Clove.

"I'm heading out," I hollered in her direction.

She gave me the finger.

"Bye, hotness."

I shut the door behind me, and proceeded to drag Peter to my car. I checked my phone when I got inside—it had exactly six missed calls, five texts, and an angry voicemail, all courtesy of Glimmer. "I'm sorry, but I'm _not _the two-bit whore that you think I am, Cato! So we're done, we are _so _done, the next time that you need a booty-call, you'd _better _fucking reconsider—"

_Okay, I get the message, sweetheart. _I stopped listening and deleted it. Just as I was about to toss my phone into the glove compartment, I received a sixth text.

_Sorry about the voicemail. Come cuddle with me?_

Peter saw it, and let out a huge guffaw. "Someone's hella desperate," he remarked.

"She's also hella hot. I think she'll be okay."

I started the car, and drove the two of us back to my house. My little sister Marlene is a gigantic homebody, so she was home watching TV with her boyfriend instead of out for the night.

"Hey," I hollered as I walked in. I checked my watch—it was around three in the morning.

"Is Peter okay?" She asked, barely taking her eyes away from the screen.

"Yeah, yeah. Uriah, how's it going?" I asked. I clapped my hand on his back, and he gave me a nod. He pointed in Peter's direction. "What happened to him?"

"Got drunk. Still haven't gotten with Tris Prior. Pretty shitty night. But hey, at least I didn't beg for my ex-girlfriend to take me back—"

"Shut up, Hayes."

We made our way to the basement, and proceeded to play four hours of Call of Duty, only taking breaks to pee. We binged on Doritos and beef jerky the entire time, and while Peter was adamant about getting high (and smoking what little weed I had left), I reminded him how drunk he'd been a few hours ago. "Man, I think you're good for the night," I'd told him.

"C'mon, I'm _never _good for the night. Drugs for me is like sex for you."

"I like drugs. What the fuck are you saying?"

"I like sex too, except it's not 'my thing.'"

"What are you talking about?"

"If you tried to go a week without girls, you'd probably die. If I tried to go a week without partying, I'd probably die." He shoved me. "We both have our respective _things."_

I snorted. "Peter the druggie and Cato the player. Sounds about right."

At around seven in the morning, we decided we could go for some pancakes. We made our way over to the Broadway Diner, which was open 24 hours a day, as Suburban diner typically were. "Thank fucking God," Peter said, yawning in the car. "Real food."

We sat down in a booth and made our orders. Our waitress was a girl who'd gone to our school named Susan. She happened to be a good friend of Tris Prior's. She tried to avoid looking at me as she served our food; the one night of her _entire life _that she'd partied, she gotten much more drunk than she'd meant to and wound up making out with me. Tris found us in a shoe closet, proceeded to punch me in the gut, and threatened to castrate me if I ever went after Susan again. (I haven't, for the record.)

Peter—who'd completely sobered up from the night before—spent most of breakfast staring waaaaay too seriously at his pancakes. "Dude," I said, smacking his shoulder, "What's up with you?"

He shrugged. "Be honest with me—d'you think I'll ever have a shot with Tris?"

I sighed. Peter didn't get deep/emotional with me very often, and when he did, it was _always _about her. "Bro—"

"Cato Ludwig?"

I turned at the sound of my name, and glanced over my shoulder. While I was reluctant for the nick-of-time save, I couldn't help but jump as I looked at the figure in front of me. "Holy shit," I said. My eyes must've been playing tricks on me. "What are you doing here, man?"

Draco Malfoy—an international student that I go to USC with—was standing next to me. He had his arm around Hermione Granger, who happened to be our Valedictorian last year. Her face flushed when her eyes landed on Peter and I.

"I thought I recognized the laughter—bloody hell, you guys look like you got trashed night."

"Good to see you too, man."

Draco turned to Peter. "And you are . . .?"

"That's Peter Hayes," Hermione said pointedly.

Peter, who had been absently slurping at his milkshake, waved his hand. "Whuddup," he said. He looked at Hermione, and winked. "How you doing, beautiful?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then leaned in to Draco, saying under his breath, "Ignore him. He's disgusting."

"I'm here visiting Hermione," Draco clarified. "We met in London over winter break, and we've been dating ever since."

My jaw dropped. "What'd he do, take a bullet for you?"

"Very funny, Cato. I go to school with him, y'know," he told Hermione. He then whispered in her ear (_I can still hear you, asshole)_, "not the brightest bulb in the shed, if you know what I mean."

Here's the thing about Draco Malfoy: he's smart, but he's a first rate _asshole. _He's whiny and obnoxious and he has this holier-than-thou, I'm-rich-and-I-play-varsity-Rugby-so-bow-down-bitch attitude about him. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, is a bible-thumping, babysitting, puppy-rescuing good girl to the core. Her dad lived in England, so that would explain how her and Draco met—but it wouldn't explain how they got together.

Assholes needed assholes—so how the fuck did _they _couple up?

"Anyway," Hermione said, clearing her throat. "We were just heading out. We're going on a hike today, so we needed something to eat."

"A hike?" Peter laughed. "You woke up at seven AM to go on a _hike?"_

Draco clapped him on the shoulder. "You see, when you're not out getting _smashed _every night, waking up early isn't too difficult."

Peter opened his mouth to say something—probably something _stupid_—so I jumped in. "Duly noted." I cleared my throat. "You guys should probably go, sounds like you have a busy day ahead of you."

"Right." Hermione didn't need any more convincing—talking to Peter and myself for more than a few minutes probably fulfilled her charity requirement for the day. "Bye. Take care of yourselves," she added at the end.

Draco gave us both a nod, and then stared after her longingly. "I'm so lucky," he said, more to himself than anyone else. (_Could you shut the fuck up, Malfoy? _I thought). He gave us a wave. "See you in school, Cato."

Peter and I both gaped as they left the diner. He was the first one to break the silence.

"Are all British kids such douche bags, or is it just him?"

"Just him. He's the king of all douches," I groaned. "Jesus, the fact that _we_ think he's a douchebag is really saying something."

"Then what the hell is he doing with Hermione?"

"Oh, who knows? I mean, he's super rich and he's really smart, he doesn't have a lot of casual sex, come to think of it I've never seen him at a party before—but he's a dick."

Peter and I both stared at each other. The gears turned in both of our heads.

"I thought you said assholes could only get with assholes."

"I _did _say that."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Then how the fuck did this kid wind up with Hermione Granger?"

We both paused for a second.

"We need to get our shit together."

We'd both said it at the exact same time. We then started to hysterically laugh. I couldn't go more than a week without sex, and Peter couldn't go more than a week without booze or some kind of illegal drug—"We need to get our shit together," was so true, it was funny.

After the laughter died down, I sighed. "So," I asked after a pause, "Will you?" I asked.

"What? Get it together?"

"Yeah."

"Eh. Nahhhh."

"Yeah, me neither."

He took another slurp from his milkshake. "And this is why we're best friends," he said, raising his milkshake.

"Cheers, bitch." I clinked my glass against his.

It was true—Peter the druggie and Cato the womanizer were a bromance match made in heaven.

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**A/N: . . . because sometimes I just need to entertain myself, and fics like THIS ONE happen.**

**(Hurrah for the Hermione/Draco cameo at the end!)**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed (or at least were mildly amused by) this one! I don't really have much experience writing humor (as you can probably tell), mostly because my sense of humor isn't PG in the slightest.**

**HOPEFULLY the social commentary was evident in this fic. Even though I mostly meant for this to be funny, I think there's a lot you can say about teenage shenanigans and the stupidity that's present (i.e. drinking/drugs/sex). I think anyone over the age of sixteen can confidently say that they know people who act like Peter and Cato do in this fic, so believe me, I'm not sensationalizing TOO much. **

**(But, who am I kidding—this fic is pretty much one big joke.)**

**Anyway, thanks a ton for reading this! Give it a review, ya? **eyebrow wiggle****

**xx Nina**


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